


Apples and Promises

by PusillanimousBitch1138



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Cute, Drabble, F/F, Fluff, Loss, Pining, Reunions, Sweet, ass effect - Freeform, return from the dead, shiara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 16:44:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19816360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PusillanimousBitch1138/pseuds/PusillanimousBitch1138
Summary: Liara mourns Shepard after the events of Mass Effect 3.





	Apples and Promises

**Author's Note:**

> This was based off of a picture I found on Tumblr, the final one in this set: https://soniaadam.tumblr.com/post/182964401027/derlaine-where-the-lover-never-leaves-where-the 
> 
> The creator, Derlaine, said it was ok for me to base this off of it and I am so super thankful

Time seems to move differently here. She’s not entirely sure how long she’s been sitting here, beneath this tree, and she’s not entirely sure she cares. The sun is warm as it shines through the leaves, the ground beneath her soft, the wind breezing around her refreshing and carries upon it the faint smell of wild flowers. And for the first time in what seems an endless eternity, Liara finds herself almost at peace. _Almost._

With her eyes closed, she can almost feel the hand sitting upon hers, feel the lightly calloused thumb brushing against the back of her hand, tender and soft. She can almost feel the tickle of the hair that blows across her neck. She can almost smell the shampoo that was used the night before, the chemical apple reminding her distinctly of home. Not of Thessia, not of her favorite dig site, not of her apartment on Illium, but of _her_.

The tears come as they always do, slipping silently down her cheeks. It is difficult to breathe through the lump in her throat, but she forces the air to persist nonetheless. What would she say, if she were to see her sitting here like this, still mourning after a year? Though, admittedly, it is likely just the realization that it had been almost a year to the day that she was struggling so much today. Regardless, it is not difficult to imagine the hands that would brush her tears away, to recall the feel of her plump lips pressed against hers, to see the warm smile that lightens her war-torn face. _“I thought you Asari are supposed to be able to move past this kind of thing,”_ she would tease in a light tone.

Liara choked out a strained laugh at the thought and rubbed her eyes hard. _“The first is always the hardest,”_ she would reply in a trembling voice, probably bordering on incoherent from the strength of her pain, _“especially when it was someone as wonderful as you_. _”_

Her strong arms would envelop her, pull her into the warm core where Liara had spent so many nights, and the smell of apples and faintly of sweat and eezo and something so distinctly _her_ that Liara was sure she would never find its likes again. A fresh sob burst forth from her lips at the realization that the smell was not the only thing she would never experience again. Her booming laugh, the proud way she would sling her arm over Liara’s shoulder as they walked side-by-side, the intensity of her piercing amber gaze, all of it was lost to her forever.

Liara clutched her knees to her chest as she wept, no longer too ashamed to let her agony be heard. Somehow, it hurt worse this time. She’d been dead before, truly and properly dead, and Liara thought she had braced herself for the second time around, though she’d prayed to the Goddess that it would be years from now. They would grow older together, and it would be peaceful, a drifting away in Liara’s arms. They might have children together, three blue daughters with brown eyes and broad grins and swaggering gaits that exuded nothing but confidence. It had been difficult for Liara to allow herself to picture this future. She’d forbidden it, forbidden all hope of happiness until the Shadow Broker had been dealt with and Feron rescued. But when her arms had pulled her close, when her lips brushed gently against hers as if she were made of glass and then deepened with the urgency and desperation that had filled both of them since last they were together, Liara had lost all inhibition and allowed herself to believe. _She still smelled like apples_.

But that future was gone, now. Dashed away. Even if she was still alive by some divine miracle, there would be no way for her to find them. The crew was doing their best, but the Normandy was badly damaged. A year they’d been on this planet, and they were no closer to leaving than they had when they’d crashed. She wanted so desperately to believe that she was out there, that she was fighting to get to them, to _her,_ but Liara is above all things a scientist. There was no Cerberus this time, no wealthy organization who would reanimate her.

 _“I need to know you’re always coming back,”_ she’d begged upon the Normandy, after their business with the Shadow Broker had come to an end.

She’d teased, a playful smirk stretched across her beautiful lips. _“I dunno. That’s a pretty big promise to make.”_ Her thumbs rubbed across Liara’s skin lightly.

 _“Oh, is it?”_ Liara’d teased back.

She’d stepped closer, placed a tender kiss to Liara’s neck. _“I’d have to have something special to come back to,”_ she’d purred.

“I guess I wasn’t special enough,” Liara sighed bitterly. She leaned her head back and glared up at the sky, fists clenching in the fabric of her dress. Her teeth grit against the pain, but the tears would not cease. After a time, she squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “I’d give anything to hear your voice again, my love.” The vids were not enough, neither true enough nor what she wanted to hear. The woman in the vids was hard, kind but unwaveringly tough. The woman Liara knew was more than that, gentle, tender, terrified of failure. There were no vids that captured the way she whispered sweet nothings to her, the way she laughed and even giggled when they were alone or among friends, the teasing lilt that almost always graced her tone.

“Liara.”

She shook her head and let out a bitter laugh. _Yes, just like that. Thank the Goddess, I’ve finally lost my mind._ That one had almost sounded real, almost enough to convince her to open her eyes. But she daren’t. If this was truly insanity, she’d rather revel in it a few moments longer, hold onto her as long as she could.

“Liara.”

 _I… No, that… What?_ Liara froze in place, analyzing this. It did sound real. And closer. And… _Goddess, I can’t go through this again._ She’d woken how many nights now, alone in her bed only to see a phantom sitting in the chair? “I won’t give you the satisfaction of being just another phantom,” she called. “So, if you would kindly leave, I would greatly appreciate it.”

“Well, if that’s the way you want it…”

Liara’s eyes shot open, and her head snapped up. She was standing before she’d had time to register what was happening.

It was her. She was here. Standing below her on the hill with that same stupid grin, her hands confidently upon her hips, her chestnut hair waving about her face in the wind a little longer and curlier than Liara remembered. But it was _her._ “Shepard…” she breathed.

Shepard closed the distance up the hill before they stood only a few feet apart. Liara studied her, unable to believe her eyes. There were new scars along what little skin she could see, and there was a different rank sewn on her military-issued jacket, and she was a little skinnier than when she’d last seen her. Shepard reached up slowly, offering her time to step away, but Liara could not move. It was only when her thumb brushed against Liara’s cheek did she realize she was crying, and the soft warmth of her lightly calloused finger seemed to unglue her from her spot. In an instant, she was in Shepard’s arms, clutching at the fabric of her coat, at her hair, her shoulder, anything she could grasp, and her face buried in the woman’s neck. Liara’s entire body was wracked with violent, ugly sobs, but Shepard didn’t care. Her strong arms enveloped Liara as she had longed for so often, hands gently rubbing her back and her head to calm her. “I got you,” she whispered, and Liara could have died from joy.

Their lips found each other’s, and it was not a particularly beautiful kiss. It was filled with a year’s worth of longing, mourning, pining, loss, anger, ecstasy, and joy, and at some point Shepard had begun to cry, too. They broke apart, breathless, each unable to control their hitched breathing, but Liara found Shepard’s hand and clutched it to her chest. “You’re here,” she choked. “You’re really here.”

Shepard let out a shaking breath and tilted her head back to try her hand at a cocky grin, though it came off a little more genuine than Liara was sure she wanted. “Of course. I had something really special to get back to.”

Liara let out an incredulous laugh and pressed her face back into Shepard’s neck. And as she inhaled, she couldn’t help the harsh sob that burst from her, nor the broad grin that stretched as far as it could across her face, because she was home. Shepard still smelled like apples.


End file.
